


you're wrapped in my memory like chains

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ADWD spoilers, ASOS Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Second Chances, idek also I'm speculating like woah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Robb?” The man sounds as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Robb, is – is that really you?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He had imagined, at times, that he’d meet someone who’d recognize him, and they’d call him by his name, and in that moment maybe he’d get his memories back, but – nothing happens. The man seems familiar somewhat, and the name he just said feels right, but that’s all to it. So he asks the only thing he can think of.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Do I know you? Because it seems like you know me.”</i>
</p>
<p>Or: where Robb survives the RW with amnesia and eventually meets up with Theon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenWithABeeThrone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/gifts).



> originally written for a tumblr prompt asking for amnesiac!Robb surviving the RW and meeting up with post!ADWD Theon - that's the first part. The second is always a tumblr prompt asking for a sequel to it so while trying to complete the deed called 'clean out your HD of tumblr prompts you never reposted' I'm putting them both together. The title is from a Shawn Smith song ~~that will probably make this 100% more depressing if you watched Sopranos and you know at which point they used it~~ , they belong to GRRM and the only thing I own is the speculation in part two.

As he walks inside the tavern with a few coins in his pocket, he isn’t expecting for much at all. He has enough to pay for a meal and maybe a drink, and if he’s lucky and the owner takes pity on him he might even get to sleep in the stables – he’s learned not to hope for more. He’s been doing this for more than a year by now, since he woke up on a riverbed with what looked like scars from arrow wounds in both of his shoulders and no memory whatsoever of how he got there or of who he even was. Granted, he didn’t just have arrow scars – his entire body is covered in what looks like sword ones, and knife ones, and he could never remember how he got them in the first place. He had walked into the nearest village where an old woman took pity on him and took care of what wounds still had to be patched up, and since then he’s just taken whatever work he could find along the way while heading north.

He doesn’t know _why_ he’s heading north, it’s just something that he feels that he has to do, and no one’s noticed or stopped him in the meantime.

So he walks inside the tavern just outside White Harbor – he headed here because while he doesn’t even know who he is he apparently remembers all the important cities in the north and he knows that he’s more likely to find some work here, if there’s any to be found – and gets ready to ask the owner for a place, when he hears the clear noise of a glass falling to the ground and smashing into pieces.

He turns to his left, not even thinking about it, finding himself face to face with the man that had been sitting at the first table. At first glance he thinks that he has to be middle-aged, but then he looks better and – no, he can’t be older than thirty. It’s just the streaks of white in his otherwise somewhat dark hair that made him think so, and some lines on his face that would have no place on a young man’s. He notices that the man is wearing gloves and obviously is missing a couple of fingers on his left hand, and there’s something else that suggests that he might have fought in the war (the one he has no clue about), but what matters is that the man’s dark eyes are going wide in recognition.

He knows me, he thinks, feeling ridiculously hopeful for the first time since he opened his eyes on the riverbed. _Gods be good, he knows me_.

“Robb?” The man sounds as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Robb, is – is that really you?”

He had imagined, at times, that he’d meet someone who’d recognize him, and they’d call him by his name, and in that moment maybe he’d get his memories back, but – nothing happens. The man seems familiar somewhat, and the name he just said feels right, but that’s all to it. So he asks the only thing he can think of.

“Do I know you? Because it seems like you know me.”

\--

The last thing Theon had expected had been Robb Stark walking inside the tavern where he usually goes to drown his sorrows in ale.

Admittedly, everyone told him that he was doing something incredibly stupid, going off on his own when he could go back to Pyke with his sister and Jeyne, but – he just couldn’t. After two years spent in a prison and the war spent as Stannis’s prisoner, he just wanted some time on his own and a chance to actually be _outside_ and do what he wished to without anyone else around. He couldn’t even explain it properly, but his sister had apparently understood and handed him enough coin to survive for a while before telling him that she’d be waiting at home when he was ready to come. So he went to White Harbor, found a small village outside where no one knew who he was, took residence in a deserted small house whose owners all died during the war and – fine, maybe spending most of the mornings sleeping it out because he can’t sleep at night and the evenings drinking his sorrows at the only tavern isn’t exactly the best option anyone could have come up with. But at least he’s deciding his own fate and he’s not even sure he’s going to do it for long – he just needs to work a number of things out of his system and maybe fucking relearn to sleep in a proper bed, since he’s at it.

So, he had been in the tavern drinking his sorrows when Robb had walked inside.

Fine. He’s a lot thinner than Theon remembered him, and he has a scar on the side of his face that looks suspiciously like what you would get if someone tried to slash at you with a knife, and he’s wearing dirty and ragged clothes that are no way befitting of a king, but Theon would know him anywhere, and _he was supposed to be dead_.

Apparently he isn’t. Maybe that story that the Freys tried to disprove at all costs about Grey Wind managing to slash his way inside the Twins’ main hall and giving Robb time to escape and throw himself out of a window wasn’t false after all.

Theon had expected Robb to kill him at first sight, though.

Certainly not to be asked if _he knew him_.

He’s looking at him as if he’s never seen him before in his life.

_He doesn’t remember anything_ , Theon realizes as he stares into wide, hopeful blue eyes, and he almost wants to cry at the absurdity of it.

“I used to,” he replies in a whisper. Then he sees the owner stalking towards them – right. He let his ale fall to the ground before, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry about that,” he says before anyone can point it out. “Just – I’m going to pay for it later. Bring me another. And – one for him, too.”

The owner shrugs and says that he will – now he believes that Theon can actually pay his bills. He didn’t the first time he walked in, but who would blame him?

Robb sits down gingerly at the table, still looking at him in that ridiculous way that is entirely too similar to the way he used to look at Theon when they were kids.

“You used to?”

“It’s – it’s a long story. And – and to be honest, you’d have all the rights to kill me on sight.”

He wonders why he didn’t just lie, but – he thinks that’s been flayed out of him at some point and regardless of what he remembers, he doesn’t want to lie to Robb out of anyone. Shit, the voice is also the same. There’s no fucking doubt about who the person in front of him is.

“Why – why should I?”

“We were friends,” Theon sighs, looking down at his hands. “And – I – I had to betray your trust. I never exactly wanted to, but… there were consequences to it. Bad ones.”

Robb doesn’t look wholly convinced.

“You – you said that my name is Robb.”

“You didn’t remember it?”

“No, but it feels right. What’s – what’s yours?”

Theon swallows down and tries to pretend that it’s just a regular question.

“Theon.”

“You feel familiar,” Robb says quietly. Their drinks arrive a moment later, and Robb asks for some dinner, too, whatever they have that is worth the coin in his pocket. Seeing him counting a few silver coins between his fingers as if he wishes he had at least a couple more is such a completely absurd sight that Theon isn’t even sure that this is happening for real. Robb never even needed to handle coin to pay for something.

“I’m paying for it too,” he interrupts. “Just bring him something decent.”

Then he hands the owner a gold coin that would probably cover drinks, dinner and some more.

“You seem rich,” Robb says a moment later.

“I’m really not. That’s just – kind of loaned.”

He sighs and takes off his gloves – it’s starting to become hot in here – and when he looks up, Robb is staring down at his hands with a horrified look on his face.

“What – what is that?”

“As I said, there were bad consequences to what I did. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Listen, could you just – tell me how it is that you’re here?”

“I wish I knew. I woke up on a riverbed somewhere in the Riverlands… was it a year and a half ago? Maybe two? I don’t know. But – I couldn’t remember how I got there or how I got wounded or anything at all. I’ve stayed in a village near there doing some menial work here and there to get by and… then I just felt like I had to go up north. And – I’ve done the same since then.”

_How could no one recognize him?_ Theon wonders. Then again… as far as everyone knew, Robb Stark was dead, his body tied to the Twins with his direwolf’s head sewn onto it, but… maybe it hadn’t been his, after all. No one could have exactly proved otherwise without the head, and the gods know there had been enough bodies at the Red Wedding. The way he looks now, no one would take him for a king, former or not. And if he stuck to small villages, who would have recognized him in the first place?

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“Not really. I was hoping the owner would let me sleep in the barn or wherever. Why?”

Theon swallows, figuring that if Robb miraculously regains his memories and kills him, he’ll have done the world a favor. And if not, well – he doesn’t know, but now that for some miracle Robb is alive and in front of him, Theon is not going to let him go off on his own like _this_.

“I’m staying here. In a sort of proper house. You can have my bed if you want.”

“Why – why would you do that?”

“Believe me, it’s the least I owe you.”

\--

Robb doesn’t know if he should question his luck or not, but – Theon seems sincere enough, and he could use sleeping in a bed, he thinks as he eats his stew and tries not to go too fast even if he’s half-starving. He doesn’t know what is this owing business, but he figures that he’ll find out at some point if he doesn’t remember it, and so he accepts.

Theon smiles just slightly at it, unable to stop himself, and Robb can’t help noticing that he seems to have fake silver teeth among the real ones and can’t help wondering what happened to him and what were the _bad consequences_.

He doesn’t ask though, and they leave the tavern a short while later. Theon had eaten a serving of stew that was half the size of his own, but when he asked why he merely answered that he doesn’t really eat huge servings in the first place and Robb didn’t press.

The house is small, but decently kept – there are embers in the fireplace still, and while it’s just two rooms – a kitchen and a bedroom – the bed is covered in furs and the kitchen is plenty stocked at least with fresh water pitches. Robb doesn’t ask why there are at least ten, but he figures it’s a part of the story he doesn’t know and he feels like it might be too soon to ask questions. He’s lucky enough that he actually ran into someone who recognized him someway, and – Theon looks at him in a strange way, like he’s frightened on one side and about to explode because of happiness on the other, and Robb wishes he could figure it out.

He doesn’t expect him when Theon hands him some old, clean clothes. “If – if you want to change for the night, just take the bed. I don’t sleep well at night anyway, you might as well go first.”

“Are – are you sure? It’s your bed, I don’t want to –”

“I’d be using it just to lie down in it and stare at the ceiling. Really, you look dead tired. Just take it.”

Robb changes into the old breeches and shirt – they’re slightly large on him, but he figures it’d be the same for Theon as they’re roughly the same size from what he sees – and maybe he moans out in relief when his back meets a mattress rather than hard ground. He’s asleep not long later, and he doesn’t see Theon looking at him from the doorway with that same expression on his face.

\--

Theon had figured that he’d just clean the floor in the kitchen, and maybe he’d wash his hands and face even if he did that before leaving the house, and – fine, he knows he’d have spent half the night looking at Robb, who’s currently sleeping in his bed, his pile of worn-out clothes lying on the floor.

However, he’s pondering about how long he has left before he has to go to the common well again to restock his water supply when he hears a sound coming from his room.

A low moan, not of the good kind.

And then –

“Jeyne?”

_Oh, fuck_ , Theon thinks, going to his room at once – he can’t run, but at least It’s not very far. _Did he remember?_ , he asks himself, not knowing if he wants the answer to be yes or no. But Robb is still asleep, and he spoke in a voice that was nothing short of miserable. Theon doesn’t even know if he should wake him up, but –

“Mother?”

That was even worse. Robb is speaking like someone who’s just had a sword thrust into his stomach and maybe that’s not too far from the truth, and – there’s so much grief in it, he doesn’t even think about it. He has to wake him up now, and –

“Grey Wind?”

And then Robb screams so loudly that Theon is reminded of himself for a moment, of the times he used to scream his throat raw when he was at the Dreadfort and knowing that no one was going to come anyway, and – fine, fuck it. He sits down on the bed, shakes Robb’s shoulders hoping that it’s hard enough, and then Robb’s eyes open at once and he looks up at him, his forehead covered with cold sweat and panting as if he’s just run miles in seconds, but – no. He obviously doesn’t remember anything still, not from the way he’s staring up at Theon. Half-confused and half-grateful and half scared to death, and fuck but he’s crying and Theon is sure he isn’t even noticing it.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps a moment later. “I – I don’t even remember it anymore.”

“Does that happen often?” Theon asks, trying to keep his voice even.

“Every night? Or almost. I don’t – I don’t exactly sleep well.”

_The irony of it_ , Theon thinks.

“I just – I always forget it right when I wake up. I guess – I don’t know what is it. But while it’s happening it feels like the most horrible thing in the world. If – if that makes any sense.”

Fuck, Theon thinks, that makes sense all right. But he can’t exactly tell Robb that he’s dreaming of that time he walked into a trap and he was supposedly killed along with his mother and most of his army now, can he?

“It does,” Theon replies quietly. “That’s why I don’t sleep well either.” He knows the feeling all right, he just actually remembers his dreams after. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse – at least he knows what he’s dealing with.

And Robb is still trembling all over.

“Robb, what –”

“I don’t even know,” he says miserably, raising a hand up to his face. “I guess whatever _that_ is, it’s why I don’t remember anything, but – it’s not exactly helping, and I feel like throwing up and _why am I even crying_?”

There’s a voice in his head telling him to just leave and not even think about doing what Theon wants to – he’s lost the right to do that a long time ago.

Another, significantly louder, is telling him to just do it and never mind the rest – no one else is around here to do it and whether he deserves it or not, it’s really not the point right now, is it?

He’s so very careful as he puts his hands on Robb’s shoulders, but then Robb gets the hint and locks his arms around Theon’s waist in an iron grip while he hides his face against his neck and the first thing Theon can’t help thinking is that he really needs to eat more (same as him, but that’s another problem) and then he just stops thinking and lowers the two of them down on the bed, what passes for his good hand on the back of Robb’s head and his left around his shoulders, not knowing who’s the worst off in between the two of them. But it sort of doesn’t really matter – Robb smells exactly like he used to, feels pretty much the same way as well, and right now the only thought running inside his head is _good gods you have him back_.

“You know what I’m dreaming about, don’t you?” Robb whispers a moment later, still clinging to him.

“I think I do,” Theon answers. He won’t lie, as stated, but he really wishes he could have done so right now.

“I don’t really want to know it, do I?”

Good question, he thinks. What is he even supposed to answer? If he had forgotten everything that happened at the Dreadfort and everything that came first, the same way Robb has supposedly forgotten that bloody wedding, would he want to remember it?

Maybe a stronger person would have said yes, but he’s pretty sure that he’s not that person.

“I wouldn’t want to,” he finally admits. “But you never were the same as me.”

Then he remembers how scared Robb had looked when he learned of his father’s death, how he used to tell him that he thought that they put too much trust in him when they crowned him, and _will I manage to be everything that they’re asking of me?_

Maybe it’s not true that Robb – the way he used to be – would have wanted to know that, but he can’t be sure of that, can he?

“I can always ask you another time,” Robb croaks out a moment later, and maybe Theon shouldn’t feel thankful for that, but he does regardless. When it happens he’s going to tell the truth, but as it is, he’s glad he doesn’t have to.

If only because it means that Robb might stay longer than one day.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he answers truthfully, and he doesn’t exactly expect Robb’s fingers to grip at his shirt even harder, but they do.

“What if I don’t – if I don’t want to go anywhere either?”

Theon’s heart is beating frantically as he moves back just enough to look at Robb in the face.

“That – that thing I did that I told you about before? I spent years telling me that if – that if you weren’t dead – because everyone thinks you are – and if you’d give me the chance, I would have done anything to make it up to you. As far as I’m concerned, you can stay as long as you want. If you want me to tell you –”

“Don’t. Just – I don’t think I want to know. Not for now.” He sounds almost pleading.

Maybe a better person would have insisted.

Theon doesn’t, and as Robb tugs him even closer he decides that however it goes, he’s not going to get it wrong this time.


	2. Chapter 2

“You used to be good at archery, weren’t you?”

Theon almost drops to the ground the cup of water he was putting back on the table. Robb is standing behind him, the bags under his eyes still dark – they haven’t faded at all even if he’s been sleeping more or less properly for a month – and his hair still mussed from having lied in the bed and not having been combed yet. He must have lain awake in the bed for a while though, since he doesn’t look anywhere near like someone who’s just woken up.

“I was,” Theon replies, his voice trembling. “Did you remember anything specific?”

“No. Just bits and pieces here and there, but not much. I mean. I remembered that you taught me how to use a bow so I figured you had to be good, but it was all. Sometimes I think I’m remembering some faces, but – I can’t really recall any when I wake up.”

“Do you want something to eat?” He’s going to shamelessly change topic, but the last thing he needs to think about was a time when he had all his fingers and could actually teach Robb something.

“Uh, not really. Maybe later. But thanks. Are you sure that I’m not imposing, because –“

“Robb, you’re the only person I know who wouldn’t ever impose. Don’t.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Shit, is he that much of an open book these days? Or is it that Robb somehow always knew what was wrong with him and hasn’t lost that ability even if he lost his memories? He sighs and leans back against the wall. Robb moves slightly closer, putting a hand on his elbow, and Theon swallows. Right. Time to fess up.

“It’s just – I think a part of me hopes that you never remember what I did to you.”

Robb’s eyes go softer at that, and Theon swallows again.

“How about you tell me first then?” 

Right. That would just make sense, wouldn’t it? At least he’d know beforehand. And he still can’t bear himself to actually say it out loud.

“This evening.”

Robb looks satisfied by the answer and doesn’t push it.

Theon only postponed the moment because evening means that he can go get food at the inn, and with food comes alcohol, and he’s not sure he can ever have that conversation sober. He eats over there and pays for a plate to bring Robb – he doesn’t like being out if it’s not necessary, he found out, and he has had more ale than he can handle by the time he’s back home, but he’s never going to find the guts otherwise.

He silently puts the plate on the small table he keeps in the kitchen and waits as Robb eats. He’s about to speak when Robb does it first.

“I got angry at you once, didn’t I?”

Theon thinks he wants to scream. “Yes. Well, it wasn’t –”

“I don’t know what it was about, but I remember just one thing very clearly.”

“What?”

“That I felt horrible about it after,” Robb says, looking down at his almost empty plate, and Theon doesn’t even try to stop the stray tears falling from his eyes. He does wipe them away before Robb can see it though.

“If only I’d known,” he whispers to himself.

“What?”

“I’m – just let me say this. And don’t stop me, because if you do I’m never going to be able to start again.”

“All right. I’m listening.”

So Theon more or less says it all. He tells Robb about the rebellion and about going to Winterfell as a hostage and how they became friends, and while he tries to keep the details vague so that he doesn’t risk confusing Robb too much, especially since as far as he knows he doesn’t remember his family much if at all, he has to give at least a half-decent account of who was actually living at Winterfell.

“That time you remembered – I had saved your brother’s life, but it had been a risky thing and you got angry because I could have killed him instead. I, uh, I was expecting you to approve of it, and – I don’t even remember why I couldn’t get over it. I mean, when I went back and had to choose where I was going to stand – I wanted to give you that alliance. I really did. But I couldn’t. And I had no reason to go back. Especially when I thought you’d never value what I did as much as I hoped for. It was just so fucking stupid.”

“Well, it sounds like I was horrible to you in that instance.”

Theon swallows again. Then he goes on to the siege of Winterfell. When he’s done, his throat is so dry it hurts, but he can’t even stand up and go to get some water. He feels like he’s petrified.

“I just – if I had known, I’d have probably just killed myself before even going to Winterfell,” he whispers. “And if you want to go I understand it, but – if – just let me tell you that the moment I knew what happened to you I wished I had been there too. That’s it. And –”

His voice dies when Robb reaches out and tentatively covers Theon’s maimed hand with his own.

“If you were about to say that I should kill you, just – just don’t, all right? And – thank you for telling me.”

“You should be a lot angrier.”

“And I think most people would have gone insane halfway through what you’re saying happened to you,” Robb replies, and Theon would have asked are you crazy in another life. Not in this one though.

“I – what?”

“You seemed to have your reasons,” Robb sighs. “And you’re obviously sorry about it, not to mention that I think you seem to have paid for it. There’s no reason why I should hold a grudge for something I don’t even remember.” Then he takes another deep breath. “Right. Just – you said – I have some family left?”

Ah. Right. Theon knew it would have come.

He takes another very long and deep breath. “It’s complicated,” he blurts when he can’t find another way to put it. “What do you know for sure?”

“That I got from your story and that I knew on my own? I guess my mother died where I was supposed to. I mean, I don’t remember it, but – I kind of feel it. And that’s what I dream about at night, isn’t it?”

Theon doesn’t even try to deny it.

“And – well. My father is dead, I guess. That’s all.”

Ah, damn. This is going to be bad. He wishes he had more to drink.

“Right. So, on your father’s side, there’s no one else. Your bastard brother – well, uhm, let’s say that it’s a very complicated matter, but he used to be on the Wall.”

“And now?”

“He’s beyond it. Along with Bran. The older out of the two that – that I pretended to kill.”

“But – isn’t he one and ten? Or not much older? Why would he be beyond the Wall?”

Theon thinks about heart trees talking to him and the blood he remembers seeing among the barks and he shudders. “You don’t want to know. Your youngest sister – no one’s seen her since your father died.” He doesn’t tell Robb about most of the (few) surviving Freys having died in strange ways recently, as far as he knows. “Your other sister and your youngest brother are at Winterfell now. She’s his regent. She’s trying to rebuild everything.” _And she didn’t have me killed just because Jeyne begged her to spare my life_. Robb looks almost hopeful at that, and Theon really wishes he could avoid saying what he’s about to. But he has to go through with it.

“The problem is that – well, the last time I was there, before I left – your brother, he thought she was his mother. Er. Yours, too. And – Sansa looked heartbroken at it, but she didn’t correct it either way.”

He sees Robb’s face fall a moment later. “I guess that if I showed up I would just make everything more complicated, wouldn’t I?”

“Not because of that. Because you – ah, damn it. I know of this just because my sister told me and she really shouldn’t have, it was information that your bastard brother never divulged, but – before you went to – to the place where you didn’t die, well, you thought you might. Die, I mean. And your sister had been forced to marry into the family who was behind your… supposed death. So – you wrote a will. Where you disinherited her.”

Robb’s face falls for good at that. “Oh. So if I showed up, I should take her place when I can’t even remember the color of her eyes?”

 _Fuck_. “They’re the same as yours. But. I’m sorry. I think so. Even if she would be overjoyed if you were back.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Robb says, his grip on Theon’s hand tightening. “Right. What of my mother’s side?”

“We don’t have to do this now –”

“We do.”

“Very well. Your uncle and great-uncle are still alive and still at Riverrun. Trying to rebuild as well. Everyone else is dead.”

“My uncle – wait. Wasn’t he supposed to marry someone because I got something wrong regarding an alliance?”

Theon had really hoped that the conversation wouldn’t get this far. He excuses himself to get water and when he’s back he tells Robb what he knows of his marriage to Jeyne Westerling and of the Red Wedding arrangements.

“So – oh. So he’s still with his wife and they have an heir?”

“Yes. As far as I know.”

“Well then. It’s better to leave them alone I guess. But – my wife?”

 _Here it comes_. “Robb, I’m not sure you really want to know that.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I don’t – I know that the name feels right, though I can’t recall the face at all, but maybe –”

“She’s dead,” Theon interrupts him, figuring that getting Robb’s hopes up too much is just cruel.

“… dead?”

“Her mother was complicit in the wedding. She helped sell you out in change of having her daughter married to some Lannister after making sure she wasn’t carrying your child. She didn’t know until you… didn’t die.” And Theon hadn’t known before Jon Snow told him during the last days of the war against the Others and before he disappeared beyond the Wall saying that he had business to attend to. “Her mother pushed for the wedding not long before the war got at the worst point. Your wife – from what I know, she made clear she hadn’t wanted to, but the week before it she just stopped protesting. She married the guy her mother wanted. She also had a dagger hidden somewhere in her dress.”

“She didn’t –”

“She used it to kill him during the bedding and then she killed herself before anyone could kick the door down.”

Robb has gone as pale as a sheet. “And – that was – and I was alive out there?”

“You didn’t know,” Theon says, but he knows it’s poor consolation.

“It doesn’t change anything for her though, does it? And – all right. So, what family I know I have left is better off without me in every sense and it wouldn’t even be worth it to contact them.”

“You haven’t asked them, did you?”

Robb laughs, but it’s nowhere near nice. “Theon, from what I gathered this whole mess happened because of me, I’m not going back into their lives when I don’t even bloody remember them.”

“Because of _you_?”

“From this account, I could have just allied myself with the rightful heir to the throne instead of – of wanting independence. No one forced me to sleep with a girl that I probably knew was a maiden. That whole wedding seems like a trap laid just for someone desperate to fall into it. And I’ve been there outside all this time without knowing anything on top of that while they were – no. No, I think I’m better off anywhere but where they are.”

The last sentence was more of a sob than coherent words, though, and Theon is never not going to feel like he doesn’t have the right to even touch Robb let alone trying to comfort him, but what he thinks isn’t the matter here, and so he just moves to the other side of the table and puts an arm around him the way he had done when they had news of Ned Stark’s death, and it’s all wrong because both of them are thinner than they were back then and his arm feels so very weak right now, but then Robb clasps his hands into his cloak and lets him, and Theon doesn’t even try to drag them to the bed. He can stand sitting on the ground for a bit. Really, he can.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Robb sobs a while later. “Why didn’t I listen to you?”

“Because you’re not the coward out of the two of us,” Theon replies, and Robb shakes his head against his shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s much right, but – it’s not like it matters. I still don’t remember it. Much. I feel like I know it must have happened, but I don’t remember anything at all.”

“Better that you know beforehand if you ever do.” Theon doesn’t know how comforting that sounded. Not much, probably.

A moment passes, and then Robb sniffs and moves back a bit – his eyes are completely red-rimmed. “Uh, I just – if I can’t go anywhere else –”

“Stay here.” Theon doesn’t even let him finish. “I – before I told you, I was about to ask you to consider staying here even if you hated me after, so – really. You don’t even need to ask.”

“Tell me you’re not doing this because you feel guilty, because if you are –”

“Gods, did you miss the part where I said that I wished I had died with you up until the moment you walked inside that inn? It’s not that I feel guilty, it’s that you were the only reason I didn’t spend half of my life being feeling completely miserable, so just – just don’t, all right?”

“All right,” Robb whispers, still looking as if he could start crying any moment, and Theon just digs his fingertips into his shoulders and thinks _I’m not failing you twice if it kills me_.

\--

Two weeks pass. Robb remembers bits and pieces, but none of import and none that give him a full picture.

Then Asha knocks on his door.

“What in the seven hells you’re doing here?” Theon hisses, hoping that she’s come alone. No one is around, at least.

“Well, you said you would write a raven once each week and you did good until, wait, _two months ago_? I thought you hanged yourself and no one noticed, because you’re the kind of person that people don’t visit. You thought about that?”

Ah. _Damn_. She’s right, and he’s an idiot because he completely forgot.

“Right. Listen, there’s – a bit of a complicated situation. Just – did you come alone?”

“No, a few people are staying on the ship I surely didn’t row on my own to get here, but right now? I am. Theon, what’s with the secrecy?”

“What’s going on here?”

 _Well, fuck,_ Theon thinks as Robb walks next to him, staring at Asha as if he has no clue what to do with her. Well. He’s never even met her once, how would he know what to do with her.

Asha looks at Robb. Stares hard at him for a moment. Then walks into the house without even inviting herself in and slams the door.

“Theon. I never had the pleasure, but if the eyes and hair aren’t the same as Sansa Stark’s and he isn’t who I think he is, then I was born a fucking Tyrell. So, shouldn’t he be _dead_?”

“Excuse me, who are you?” Robb asks, sounding completely out of his depth.

“I’m his sister,” Asha says, looking entirely not impressed. “And no one answered my question.”

“Well, I couldn’t, since I don’t even remember it.”

“You don’t –”

“Asha, that story that the Freys kept on swearing wasn’t true about his wolf saving him at the last minute?”

“What about it?”

“Well… maybe it was true.”

“Right, and what is Robb Stark doing in your house?”

“Er, he was passing through and I recognized him.”

Robb shrugs. “He’s right. And I didn’t even remember my name before I met him, for that matter.”

“Oh, great, so you’ve been hiding the fucking _King in the North_ in your humble house? This is just –”

“He’s hiding no one,” Robb says quietly.

“… What?” Asha seems to lose a bit of her obvious uneasiness at that.

“I know what happened because he told me and it doesn’t clash with the few things I remember. But I’m – I’m no king. And I’m not going to – to Winterfell. Or wherever else. If I did I’d just ruin things for everyone and I can’t do it when I wouldn’t even know their names if he hadn’t been so gracious to remind me.”

At that, Asha’s face goes imperceptibly soft, but for her it’s pretty damn huge. “Stark, your sister would cry in joy if she knew you were alive.”

“Maybe, but if I disinherited her and I came back, I think I’d ruin things for her and maybe she deserves some quiet to put the kingdom back together. And I can’t do it. Now or anytime soon.”

“Oh, for – and you’re staying with him.”

Robb shrugs again. “As long as he wants me to, I guess so.”

Asha looks at Robb again, then at him. “Stark, can I have a word with him? Don’t worry, no one’s going to know that you’re currently not dead after I leave.”

Robb goes without a word and locks the bedroom door. Then Asha looks back at Theon.

“Right. Now please tell me what in the seven hells you think you’re doing.”

“I have no clue whatsoever, but – damn, Asha, I told you, didn’t I? How do you think I felt when I realized he wasn’t dead after all?”

“Is this because you feel guilty about –”

“No, it’s because betraying him is the one thing I should have never done and because he was better to me than Rodrik and Maron ever were, even if his parents spent months telling him not to get attached. And because – disagree with it all you want, but the only place I should have been all along was with him. Even for that fucking wedding. I’m not feeling guilty. That’s not it at all.”

Asha looks at him for a moment, then reaches out and grabs his elbow. “Fine. Fine, I get it. But you do know you can’t stay here forever, do you? It’s the North. Someone is going to recognize him.”

“So?”

“So I meant, if you ever come back before the next ten years, just bring him with. If anything, I’m pretty sure that Jeyne might be one person who’d like to see him again.”

“Right. Uh. Thanks.” He feels bad for having been so defensive until now. “How is she doing?”

“Oh, great. She’s also very delighted by Tris finding her enchanting, and I’m glad because at least he stopped asking me to marry him, and by the way you can come and see for yourself whenever you want. Fine. I’ll be going back. Say hi to him for me.”

“… Stay for dinner at least?”

“Yes, so that my men get worried and come here to find me dining with you and a supposed dead man. No way. You can have dinner with me when you come back.”

And with that, she’s out of the door and going back to the harbor.

“Has she left already?” Robb asks, walking outside the bedroom.

“Yes, but – don’t mind it. She’s going to keep her mouth shut. And – well, apparently if I want to go back home and you want to come she’s not going to say anything either.”

“Really?”

“Really, but not now.”

He still wants some time just for the two of them. He knows he can’t push it, but he still wants it. Robb’s fingers tentatively grasp his left hand again and Theon doesn’t even think before holding it back.

\--

It takes Robb three weeks to take the decision. Maybe he shouldn’t have waited until the two of them were done packing their meager belongings in order to sail back to the Iron Islands, but for some reason he wanted to be really sure about it and when he finally was he needed time to put it into decent words. Not to mention that he had felt guilty for even wanting to tell Theon what he’s about to tell him. He was married once, and he’s pretty sure that his wife deserved a lot better than what she gained from their marriage, and he feels horrible because as much as he tries he can’t attach the name to a face. It’s all gone, the way most of his previous life has disappeared, and deep down he knows that it’s hardly going to get better. It’s been nothing at all for years and now it’s just merely better than nothing, and what little he has concerns Theon only. Maybe if he ever met his surviving relatives it would work, but he doesn’t know that either. Maybe he should just try and move on and do the best he can with what life he has now, and far from him to think it’s a bad one. It couldn’t be, and not just in comparison to the one he led before he walked into an inn and Theon dropped his glass on the ground.

It’s the last night before they’re supposed to leave, and they’re lying on the bed they’re not going to share anymore come tomorrow, and Robb decides that he should just say it. Or do it, but the thing is that he’s seen the way Theon holds himself rigid at times, and he’s heard what he says when he has nightmares, and he’s wary of doing what he’s about to do. Still, he wants to. He has to, or he’ll go crazy with keeping it in.

“I have to ask you something,” he says finally into the darkness.

“Well, do ask.”

Robb thinks about it for a moment, then decides he should just say it the way it is.

“Can I kiss you?”

For a moment there’s just silence.

Then.

“You – you want to kiss me?”

“I just asked you, didn’t I?”

Theon moves and turns towards him, and Robb can barely see him in the pale moonlight, but from what he can notice, he’s looking at him as if he can’t believe what he’s just heard.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Robb replies, having figured that it would go like this, and then he reaches down and feels for Theon’s left hand. He brings it upwards and kisses the hollow where fourth and fifth finger should have been and he can feel Theon going so very still at it. He keeps holding it up, threading Theon’s fingers with his.

“Why would you even?”

Nice question, Robb thinks. He might as well tell the truth. “Maybe because you’re the only person that I actually remember half-clearly? Maybe because from what I remember I felt like kissing you before, too, and I never did, but what’s going to stop me now? I don’t really have much to lose, do I? Maybe because I see how you look at me when you think I don’t notice and you still haven’t realized that I do the same?”

There’s a strangled sound coming from Theon’s throat at that. “You didn’t just say that.”

“I did.”

“If you remember me before how can you even look at me like that now?”

“Gods, I have my name back just thanks to you, do you think that I care about the way you look?”

The strangled sound is there again, and at this it’s obvious that Theon is really trying not to cry.

“You just – you don’t even know,” he says under his breath, and then he moves closer and his eyes fall shut.

“I don’t even know what?”

“Doesn’t matter. And – yes. I mean. You can. If you want.”

Robb doesn’t even think before acting, now that he has permission, but he still goes so very slow about it, his free hand reaching out to cup Theon’s cheek, feeling the stubble under his fingers and the lines he’s sure he doesn’t remember from his few full memories. Then again in his memories Theon’s fingers weren’t just three when he was helping him shoot arrows, but none of that matters as he moves closer and covers Theon’s mouth with his own, not pressing or pushing but making sure it’s not a peck. Theon’s lips part just slightly with a sigh a moment later and Robb pushes just a bit then. He feels Theon’s shaking right hand moving to the back of his head, and it doesn’t matter at all that when his tongue runs over the upper row of Theon’s teeth he feels fake ones under its touch before he moves back for air.

Theon opens his eyes slowly, and their faces are inches from each other.

The eyes haven’t changed at all, except that the person he thinks he used to know was rarely this open with his emotions.

“Can I do it again?” Robb asks after a moment, his heart pounding, but now that he’s done it and that it felt good in ways he had forgotten things could feel, he isn’t sure that he’s going to have a dignified reaction if he’s told no.

“You – you still want to?”

“Would I ask if I didn’t?”

“Please.” Theon’s voice cracks on the word and Robb leans down and kisses him again, still slow, and they lean back so that they’re both lying down. Robb grabs the blankets and pulls them above the two of them, and Robb knows by instinct that it’s still not the way it should have been, that they both should be more built, that they both shouldn’t be this scarred – he feels Theon’s hand go to the red slash on his cheek and he leans into it without even thinking about it – but it feels right in ways nothing has since he woke up bleeding everywhere next to a river.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel drained when they part, the exhaustion completely smothering him. “Maybe we actually should sleep before we find out that I get seasick tomorrow?”

Theon smiles just slightly against his lips. “You don’t look like the kind, but it’s not a bad notion. Just – I don’t get how you might want to, but –”

“Maybe one of these days I can show you for good,” Robb cuts him, and maybe he kisses that hollow where fingers should have been on Theon’s left hand again before moving back enough that he’s not tempted to go farther, his free hand still on Theon’s hip, and maybe he won’t remember more than bits and pieces and he can never have what life he used to have back, but maybe it also doesn’t matter that much after all. 

End.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a meme on tumblr where you could ask for fic timestamps - the original requester wanted a timestamp with amnesiac!Robb on the iron islands so have him and Jeyne P. bonding some. I wrote this ages ago but I figured it was high time I added it to the main one. XD

“She  _would_  want to know, though,” Jeyne says as she turns towards Robb - gods, she  _still_  can’t believe he’s alive. But he is, and he’s also very convinced in his resolution to not tell Sansa about it, and while Jeyne is not going to betray his trust in the next letter she writes to Winterfell, she doesn’t quite understand why.

“Maybe,” Robb agrees, staring straight ahead at the open expanse of sea in front of them. It looks gray, maybe because the sky is clouded, but it’s not a bad day at all. Not for Pyke standards, and she’s been here for months - she knows by now. “But it would just cause trouble. And I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already did  _especially_  when I don’t remember any of that.”

And  _that_  is what is weirdest of all, Jeyne thinks - it felt so strange when he introduced himself to her the first time they met again, when they have known each other for years. Well, as far as she’s concerned. He’s been here for a couple months now and he’s remembered a few things, sure, but nothing more than that. But thing is… he hasn’t changed that much. He’s different, of course, but the moment he says  _that_  she can’t help thinking that it’s… exactly what the Robb Stark she used to know would have said. Of course he’d put the benefit of other people before his own.

“You haven’t really changed that much, though,” she has to say at that point. “I mean, that’s - that’s something you’d have said. Back then.”

“And is that a good thing?” He sounds genuinely curious now, his legs dangling over the edge of the road leading to the beach that they’re sitting on - the beach itself is just under them, they could drop in the sand with a fairly short jump. It’s weird, Jeyne thinks, that you can see on his face how much the war and what happened aged him but at the same time he looks… somehow as young as he really is.

“I don’t think its bad,” she replies after thinking about it. “You talk of yourself like - like you were a bad person. And  _everyone_  looked up to you.”

“Guess they were wrong,” he says under his breath, still staring ahead.

“And why?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t look to me like they gained much in  _looking up to me_.”

Jeyne would like to explain him how wrong was that, how much Sansa said she missed him back when they were in King’s Landing, how much she had hoped that he’d storm into the city soon and how hope was always better than nothing, but - it’d probably be useless. He seems sure of it.

“Well, no one blames you for it,” she finally tells him, because  _that_  is the one thing she’s sure of.

He snorts, as if he wants to say  _small consolation_ , but doesn’t speak for a long time.

When he does again, he doesn’t say what she had imagined he’d say.

“How long did you say you’ve been here?”

“The better part of a year, give or take.”

“And how do you like it?”

She knows she blushes a bit as she mulls over her answer, if anything because the last thing she’d have thought when coming here was that someone would find her  _enchanting_ , or at least so Tris said the first time they met. And they kissed for the first time  _maybe_  a couple of weeks ago, and  _that_  had definitely gone against anything that she had been taught about ironborns back in Winterfell.

“It’s… different, I guess,” she finally says. “The weather is horrible, and I miss home sometimes, the way it used to be, but… it’s not bad at all. And I’m not sure I could ever go back to Winterfell. Or if I ever will, it won’t be for a long time. And I’ve been quite… content, at least. So… I like it fine, I suppose. Why?”

“Well, the weather  _is_  horrible,” Robb agrees. “But… I don’t know. It’s not nice to say, I guess, but I don’t remember anywhere else. At all. For being someone’s home I guess you could do a lot worse.”

Jeyne can’t help moving closer to him and elbowing in the side just slightly, the way she used to with Sansa a lifetime ago. “That’s what you’re telling yourself, but I don’t think anyone would buy it. You don’t care about where you are, you care about who you’re with.”

“And what’s your opinion about that? I mean, I don’t - hells,  _he_  keeps on looking at me like he doesn’t deserve it and I don’t know how to take it.”

Right, good question. Jeyne doesn’t know what anyone named Stark would say about this, nor what the Robb Stark she knew would have said, even if she doesn’t think that he’s changed that much. But she knows what  _she_  has to say about it.

“He saved my life,” she replies at once. “He didn’t have to, he was worse off than me and I could see he was completely terrified, and he still did it. As far as I’m concerned he paid for what he’s done and he deserves to be happy, and if - if you’re both happy with what you have, you should go for it instead of wasting second chances.”

“Well, that was what I thought, too,” he says, leaning back on his elbows. She can see a criss-cross of scars all over his collarbone, and she stares for a moment at the slash cutting his cheek in half - his beard isn’t covering it very well. But he’s also smiling just a bit and she can’t help thinking,  _you really have no idea how much everyone you used to know misses you_ , but - it’s his choice, and she’ll respect it until he changes it, if he ever does.

“Did we ever go to the sea at Winterfell?” He asks.

“No,” Jeyne answers. “It was plenty far. You might have been to White Arbor a few times, maybe. I never came with. Why, you like it?” She can’t help smiling back at him when his lips curl up in a small smirk.

“I think I do,” he answers, and Jeyne has a hunch he’s not talking just about the scenery.

In a moment or so she’ll suggest they go back to the castle and he’ll most probably agree at once. But not just now.

 

End.


End file.
